Category Archives: Struggles

I’m disappointed in a few of my poet friends. (Should I be surprised?) No. That’s how artist can be sometimes and Speech and debate performers for that matter, so I’m use to this disappointment. I must remind myself, that it’s their loss and they are artist who do not want their career to grow like mine. So fuck it!

There’s this perpetual feeling that swings back and forth in my chest. I am far too busy for a relationship, to give myself to a man. But then there is that sinking feeling. Watching others pair up and I just feel like that unicorn in my childhood Noah’s ark book, sitting alone on a rock, watching the water climb up. I know its morbid but what happens when all my family dies, when uncles and aunts are gone, when my parents leave this life? I’m starting to understand the true need to find someone and it’s kind of sad all around. That we cannot fathom being alone so we must pair up with another, settle for someone else to create our happiness instead of it being the other way around. I think about my professor and how he says how thankful he is for his wife and all the shows she goes to with him. And I don’t have that. Not right now anyways. But then it begs the question, do I want to settle? No.

And so continues the never-ending cycle and the thoughts of loneliness

I’m moving soon. Leaving the midwest (for now) and returning to California. Going to teach high school, coach some speech and work on my writing. I’m nervous to leave all my friends and a city that has been so good to me. But it’s time. Time to try a bigger stage for my poetry. I’m ready for this. (I hope)

I had a nice chat with my poetry professor yesterday. He spoke some wonderful words to me about my work and how I will make a wonderful teacher. (I needed that) As you’ll (who read) notice I’ve been a bit down on myself and my work. I need a boost, because I was really doubting my work recently. Today I’m feeling better. I’m working on a poem that means a lot to me and I’m hoping to have it done for workshop tomorrow.

When I return home to California I’ll be 25-years-old. I’m transiting into who I will be for the rest of my life. I’m really proud of myself. 9-year-old Sally would have never thought I would end up here. A writer, an English major and almost done with school. But thinking about grad school. These were once just silly dreams of mine, from a “special kid.” I don’t feel disable very often.

I’m gradating soon and I have seen so many of my fellow talented writers leave college and to never write again.

I don’t want that to happen to my poems.

But is this a real thing? Many moments throughout my day consist of the thought, am I really good at this whole poetry writing stuff or is everyone just being really nice to me? Because who would say, “Well Sally maybe you should try something else.” This is all I got, I love it, I live for it, it’s what makes me feel better and I am the most happy writing and performing. But how will I make money? How will I get into a great MFA (Full time or low residency)

I want to be the best, but this just never seems to be in the cards for me, well I suppose I just need to dig really deep.

I’m just been so down on myself this week and my work. Maybe it’s the period, maybe the terrible back pain that makes me sleepy and in exhausted. MaybeI’m just facing some hard facts.

Stress has become a huge player in my everyday life. My mother has always been a very stressed out person and I’m sure I’ve developed some of that stress from growing up around her.

Along with this stress is the terrible pain of my back and neck that has been playing out and its terrible. The amount of medicine I have taken and icy hot on my back has become never-ending and almost placing no effect on making me feel better. My back and neck pain makes everything exhausting and painful. It’s really slowed me down the past few weeks and I’m struggling to keep up.

Friends have become stressful. I love them to pieces but keeping up with everyone’s needs has killed me and stressed me out.

Poetry is always stressful, but I suppose of all the stresses I’m happy and try not to complain about the stresses of writing. More I’m sad my time with my professors is almost over. Of course I have moments of clarity, moments of immense doubt in myself and moments I just want a glass of wine.

But I’m worried because I feel like I’m close to a breaking point, like I’m going to just start crying and freak out. (Great Crazy Sally) I’m trying to prevent this from happening but I’m worried.

Dating stresses me out, more upset at the past, memories I’m ashamed of and the idea that I may never find someone I want to be with. There are plenty that would want to spend their time with me and I’m grateful and flattered but I’m not sure I want any of them. And the more i watch friends find someone and have someone and then the ideas of family members will die, my parents one day will be gone and it will be just me. It really puts everything into perspective the whole meaning behind lovely yourself, because everyday it really is just you. Yes you have friends, family, co-workers and peers but (ok this sounds morbid) but they’re going to die (you’re going to die) or you’ll lose touch with people, realize you no longer work. So its morbid weird thing I’ve been thinking about. Really understanding what loving yourself means.

I think this is where loneliness comes from.

When you have no one. I think this is why many pair off into mates, because it’s no fun feeling lonely and there’s the added plus of kids and passing on a bit of yourself.

Each night I fall asleep and whisper, “I am in love with myself.”

Each day I become more unsure if I ever will find someone who will match up with me, or if I will ever want to match up with someone. For all I know I do with so many but have turned them away because of this gut sick feeling I have towards dating right now. I almost feel sick and don’t want anymore to touch me. To be honest I’m a bit worried what this all means. I hope some of it comes from strength.

I’m pushing the hot showers, the chocolate, watching TV shows, getting more normal sleep than I normally get, like for example its 1:30am and after I post this I’m going to pass out and wake up at 9am. Normally I don’t fall asleep until 3am. I think the sleep and candy is keeping the break down at bay. I’m worried the neck pain is going to push the break down out in the open.

Just need to continue the deep breathing and wine.

And food…lots of food.

Also masturbating here and there. Like I shit you not I was in the middle of writing a paper, got horny, masturbated and then went back to writing.

Yesterday my three roommates and I drove 45 minutes to a different town to get our hands on:

Jamba Juice

Krispy Kreme Donuts

Sweet Potato Tots <– These were just a plus and weren’t planned until we got into town.

For anyone that lives out in the “middle of no where midwest” you understand the need to venture out and find other kinds of food. Especially when my roommates and I are all from California, where everything you ever wanted is everywhere.

Food tends to be the center of my universe. I’m going to be making a poetry performance trip in April and the first thing I told my roommate was, “I’m going to look up what kind of food they have there.”

Also we are planning a road trip for May and June and the majority of planned out events involve food.

This is my life.

Also for many of my readers of this outrageous blog, I haven’t had sex as of recent. Actually I haven’t sense November. So I so how went on a celibate binge without my knowledge.

Or as my dear friend told me, “Your celibacy is bumming all of out.” And apparently my poetry is missing the nasty like it once had. But I’m sure I still sneak that shit in there a lot.

But last night really confirmed my need to get laid.

Valerie and I stayed up until 2am watching The Voice in our blanket fort we made for the living room, that’s now been up for a week and some days. One Usher makes our loins burn, that was until Usher reminded Valerie of this guy she dated for a while. Still Usher is yummy yum.

Then this guy comes on The Voice and sings and I’m sure Valerie and I both had mini orgasm’s

I’ve continued to have egg cracking throughout various dreams these last few weeks. To the point within my dream last night there were thousands of egg shells all over the floor. I was bare foot and I was crying but I was also so very happy at the same time. I suppose they must have been happy tears.

*Breaking out of my shell*

That’s what I’ve been telling myself I’m doing. I’m breaking out of my shell. Which makes a lot of sense. I’ve been feeling irritated by certain people around me *men* in particular and the injustice I’ve been not only about how certain men view me as a woman but the other women around has been exhausting.

To realize a dear guy friend of mine has been a core reason for why my poetry has seem to be slipping past my finger tips is a rather very upsetting realization. To not write feminists, to have a smaller voice. The very issues I have been writing about started to become me because I trusted him, my friend and all it got me was tears and the frustration of, “what’s going on?”

I can only hope I’ve gotten back on the right track?

God I’m praying, I know I don’t pray very often but God, Universe, the World I need a big win right now. That would be awesome. Please.

There’s a lot going through my head right now and I did the good feelings to come back.

Today writing they did come back and I’m hoping the feelings are the same again. So I’m going to keep pushing through and hope each day gets better and better.

And even though *breaking out of my shell* has been one of the hardest changes of my life, its one of the happiest most worthwhile experiences and I know I’m going to be a strong, proud, powerful woman at the end of this all.

I can’t wait to see my poetry and I can’t wait to meet this new woman coming out of her shell.

Last week was ROUGH. I had a really hard week. From poetry, friends and men.

But this last week I finally spoke up in my life.

I’ve always been a quite person, the silent observer you learned about in interpersonal class on working groups. I was a shy little kid and thanks to speech and debate, poetry and a few friends most people don’t believe me at all that I’m shy.

Yet I have barely spoken up when it comes to serious conversations in my life. I’ve always felt I could never articulate myself, especially after years of special education I’ve never treated my thoughts or my voice as something of intellectual significance. So I’ve remained rather silent. Until I found poetry, a place to write out all my thoughts out. Because I had time to think my ideas and thoughts over and put them down in a way for people to hear my voice. Which is funny because that’s what everyone really loved about my poetry, that you could hear this voice.

And thanks to writing poetry for a year now I notice I’m speaking up more and more in my life. But it’s really hard and very exhausting as well.

I was tested this week, not only with speaking up but with how much I love poetry.

I had a dream Saturday night, where there was a shit ton of cracking egg shells and some broken ones as well.

Decided to look it up because I was really worried what it could mean I’m going through mentally

Dream dictionary: To see cracked or broken eggs in your dream represent feelings of vulnerability or a fragile state in your life. Consider the phrase, walking on eggshells. Alternatively, you may be breaking out of your shell and being comfortable with who you are.

I thought that was pretty cool. I think it’s rather interesting how much dreams line up with your reality.

So here we go…more breaking out of my shell and a fragile state in my life.

This week has been teetering on the cliff of terrible and emotionally draining.

I’ve been back and forth with my poetry this entire week.

It easy to say this week has really tested me as a writer and to keep pushing through and not giving up, even though I’ve wanted to shut the door and just sleep all day.

I think I’ve wanted to cry about ten times this week and questioning my poetry. I have no idea if any of this stuff is even worth the time. (ok I know it must be) Be I’m going through that shitty week where I think my stuff must be shitty. Which is most of the time because I mean how can I be good at poetry? How can this be true, there has got to be a catch.

I’m just feeling shitty. I’ll get over it.

Plus this shitty mood hasn’t slowed down my writing.

Just need to get through this week and get over this terrible feeling.